How Not to Win a Knife Fight
by lynne-monstr
Summary: It wasn't a job gone wrong. But it wasn't exactly a job gone right, either. (prompt fic: tending injuries). Quinn/Chaos.


Written for comment fic on lj for the prompt: tending injuries

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><p>"I totally hacked us an exit one-handed."<p>

Quinn rolled his eyes as he guided them into the tiny apartment they were using for their latest job. When he was sure Chaos could sit without falling over, he went and fetched the first aid kit he kept on hand for himself. Returning to the kitchen, he stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to the elbow.

"Am I supposed to be impressed that you can do your damn job?" Quinn asked, as he carefully peeled the remnants of Chaos' sweatshirt away. The gash underneath was long, all the way up the forearm, but was fairly clean and had finally stopped bleeding.

"Um, yeah. Did you miss the part where I owned that whole system with only one working arm."

"I was more focused on the part where you managed to lose a knife fight you weren't even involved in." Not waiting for an answer, Quinn turned towards the table to rummage through the first aid supplies.

Gauze, bandages, clean cloths, water, antibiotic ointment.

Chaos hissed at the first touch of water to his injured arm but didn't try to pull away as Quinn cleaned out the wound. After a moment, Chaos opened his eyes, voice strained as he replied, "If you didn't turn your back on the lackey with the knife, I wouldn't have needed to _get_ involved." He drew a ragged breath, looking anywhere other than the mess of his arm. His eyes were slightly glazed as he glanced at Quinn. "It's okay, you can admit that I saved your sorry ass. No need to thank me or anything."

"I had it covered. You got in the way." Quinn replied, eyes never leaving his work. The cut was long and nasty but it was made cleanly. Probably not deep enough to need stitches. Quinn let out a relieved breath as he popped the top off the antibiotic cream.

Chaos was loud, annoying, and obnoxious. And that was on a good day. But he was also smart and ruthless, and despite the constant urge to wring his damn neck, Quinn had gotten used to working with the guy. His stomach clenched as he remembered turning mid-fight, barely in time to deflect the knife strike from Chaos' stomach to his arm.

It had been close. Too close.

Grabbing a pack of butterfly bandages from the table, he got to work, holding the cut closed and applying each thin strip one at a time. "Next time, why don't you leave the knife fighting to the one of us who actually knows how to use a knife."

"Dude, the last time you _had it covered_, you ended up on fire. So excuse me for not wanting to die because you're bleeding out in some basement after being too dumb to watch your own back. Do all those muscles drain the blood from your brain or something? Or is it the hair? I bet it's the hair."

Quinn shook his head. "You can talk about my hair once you shave that chia pet off your face."

"I didn't hear you complaining the last time I had my face between your legs," Chaos shot back. "And I know how knives work. The sharp end goes in the other person."

Quinn finished up with the last of the bandages, ignoring how the room suddenly seemed a lot warmer. He gave Chaos' arm a pointed look. "Great job applying that bit of knowledge. You're a real pro." He reached for the roll of gauze, and began methodically covering the entire wound.

Now that the worst was over, Chaos visibly relaxed, slumping back in his chair. "You're not too terrible at this whole nurse thing."

"I've had a hell of a lot of practice."

"Next time let's just blow the place up. I've got this sweet new remote trigger I want to try out. Swiped the specs from some Iranian arms dealers. Someone should really tell them their encryption sucks."

"How about no?" Quinn paused to tick off all the reasons that was an awful idea. The bomb, not taunting the Iranians. That part he could get on board with, for the right price. "Unless you _want _to be messy, imprecise, inefficient, and to make both our jobs a whole lot harder."

"I think you mean fun, unpredictable, and utterly chaot—"

"Finish that and I'll hit you," Quinn warned.

"—chaotic," he finished with a smug, obnoxious smile to match. "And no, you won't." His lips twitched as if holding in laughter.

With a shake of his head, Quinn finished taping the gauze in place. "Don't push me. You realize I could take you with both hands tied behind my back, right?"

"Don't I know it." The self-satisfied grin turned to a leer. "Lucky for you, I prefer it when you use your mouth."


End file.
